


Traditions

by starforged



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starforged/pseuds/starforged
Summary: He really shouldn't have ever gone to that party.





	

It’s his own fault. 

It’s also her fault, the witch, the seductress, the bane of his very existence. 

But it’s definitely mostly his fault, for looking at her, for letting her know that he was looking at her. He’s not subtle. And she’s too _much_  to ignore, the shape of her hips in that lilac dress, the plunge of cleavage, the way her hair rests perfectly on her bare shoulders. 

Matthias can’t stand her. She clogs his nostrils and his thoughts.

Which is how she corners him the way she does, using her hips to bewitch him by forcing him to stumble back a couple of steps. A few of the other party goers laugh a bit at the spectacle: large Matthias running away from pretty Nina.

“I didn’t peg you for the ugly sweater type, Matthias.” Her smile is equal parts mocking and delighted. She reaches out and plucks at the green yarn of his sweater. 

“It’s not ugly.”

It’s large and warm, and perhaps a little too bright for him. The Christmas tree on the front might have been too much, but it was a holiday party. 

He just really likes the sweater.

“It’s very ugly, and yet very fitting.” Her eyes sweep over him, and he’s got the oddest feeling that she means fitting very differently than he wants to believe.

“You’ve been drinking, Zenik.”

Her very shapely mouth formed itself into a pout. He doesn’t want to think about her lips and how soft they would be and the taste of her alcohol on them. These are not the kind of thoughts he wants to have about her. 

“One drink.” Her eyes flicker up now, her green gaze more alive than anything he’s ever seen before. They light up even brighter than the gaudy Christmas tree. “Oops, we walked right into the mistletoe.”

Oops.

His face heats up without meaning to, his teeth grinding together. She meant to do that. Of course she did. This is Nina Zenik they are talking about. Matthias sighs and steps to the side, away from the accursed plant, but it’s as if she anticipates this from him. She dances around him and forces him back into the doorway. The wood digs sharply into his back, even through the sweater. 

She’s just a girl. A pretty one. Beautiful, really. 

He feels like a caged dog.

“Mistletoe, Matthias. Don’t they teach you about upholding traditions?” Nina laughs, and it’s every sweet song he’s ever heard.

He glowers at her. “This is a silly tradition.”

“Yeah?” She _swaggers_  when she closes the distance between them, and he hates her even more. 

Men - and women - would kill to be forced into a corner by her, to have all that she’s offering up in that dress. But Matthias can’t take his eyes off of her face - well, except for maybe the occasional glance. There’s a rosy glow in her cheeks, pure joy humming through her whole body. 

“I thought you liked silly traditions.”

“My traditions are not silly,” he mutters.

She raises a perfect eyebrow at him.

“If I kiss you, will you leave me alone?”

“Maybe,” she teases.

It’s the best answer he’s going to get. It’s no hardship, though, to lean down and close the distance between them. His mouth is against hers in an instant, far faster than he anticipated. He expects it to be a quick peck and she’ll laugh as he makes his escape.

He doesn’t move away, and her lips taste like apples. His hands find her hips far too easily. He doesn’t like how long he’s been imagining this, they exact placement of her body against his. Nothing about Nina is supposed to appeal to him. Her fingers are like wildfires as her hands slide over his shoulders, his neck, his face, until they bury into his hair and tug at his scalp. She moves closer to him, kissing him harder, bringing him against her.

And then _she’s_  gone, a breathless laugh on her lips. She takes a bow, but never breaks eye contact with him. “I am a woman of my word.”

Matthias growls. “Since when?”

“Since now.” She tugs at that loose string of yarn, breaking it off before making her escape.

The devil, that’s what she was. A demon.


End file.
